Curses
by Nicola
Summary: Hank is on his death bed forcing Buffy to come to LA. Nobody has room for her short stay, and she's extremely short of cash. So she goes to stay with the one who will always have a place for her. They talk too.


Curses  
By Nicola  
  
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Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy or Angel, or any other regular characters mentioned in this brief story. I do, however, own all mentioned events from birthday number 20 through 26. Don't sue.  
Rating: PG  
Spoilers: Surprise/Innocence, Helpless, B's S4 b'day  
Season: Future fic.  
Started: 21st September '01  
Completed: 24th September '01  
Teaser: Hank is dying, bringing Buffy to LA. Dawn's pad is too small so she has to stay with someone else. They have a nice chat.  
Notes: I'm not sure how I thought up this one, but still. Here goes!  
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Angel rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he shuffled to the front door. With a small sigh of annoyance he reached for the handle and turned. Everyone said it was a good thing that he lived in an apartment complex with others of the living, but it meant disturbances at all hours of the day. One of the 'perks' of the business he was in: redemption. Angel pulled the door open and his thoughts halted completely when he saw exactly who was on the other side.  
  
"Buffy," he choked out, surprised beyond belief. Said Slayer gave him a small smile and shifted uncomfortably onto her other foot.  
  
"Hey," she said after a moment, not daring to look up at his face. She didn't know what emotions his eyes would hold.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Angel asked, not unkindly. Buffy's shoulders slumped a little more.  
  
"My dad's in the hospital and Dawn's place is too small, and seeing as I'm short of cash I wondered if I could stay here?" she rushed out. She dared herself to look into his eyes and the compassion there nearly brought tears to her own. Angel smiled tentatively down at her.  
  
"Sure, c'mon in. And happy birthday," he replied, pulling the door open completely and ushering her in. Buffy's eyes skimmed over Angel's possessions. It was totally him, she noticed, down to the artwork on the walls and the leather. Lots of leather.  
  
"I see we've gone downhill since the mansion," she pointed out humourlessly. Angel winced at the dull tone of her voice. There was a long silence after her lifeless joke, in which Angel pondered where to go next.  
  
"So..." he started, trailing off when no other words came forth. Buffy turned and smiled sadly at him, and Angel truly looked at her for the first time in years.  
  
She had aged. Oh sure, she was still outstandingly gorgeous and had an air about her that commanded attention and authority, which she needed and deserved, but she had aged far more in her head and in her heart.   
  
"How did you find out where I lived?" he asked at length, desperate for any form of conversation. He'd been out of her life for so long, he wanted to know everything about her. He had to rediscover her.  
  
"Cordy told me," Buffy replied shortly, shuffling on her feet again. Angel chuckled.  
  
"You can sit down," he told her with a smile. Buffy returned the smile, gratefully sinking onto his sofa and resting her tired feet. She hadn't sat in what felt like days. "Cordy told you? What d'you bribe her with?" he joked. Buffy nodded, her eyes showing the slightest hint of amusement.  
  
"Yeah, well, I said I either stayed with you, her, or on the street, so here I am," she replied, and the quietness fell on the flat again as the two studied anything around them but each other. Eventually Buffy spoke again.  
  
"I wasn't looking for charity," she said quietly. Angel frowned in confusion, silently urging Buffy to explain. "When I arrived on your doorstep and blurted out why I'm here, I wasn't looking for sympathy." Angel nodded.  
  
"How've you been?" he asked equally as quietly. Buffy sighed, relaxing more into the sofa. She had been tense for so long, but in his presence she knew she could let her guard down just a fraction.   
  
"What timescale are we talking?" she murmured, eyes closed. Angel didn't answer, leaving Buffy no other option but to continue. "Over the last eight years I've been okay. I've not been hanky-dory, fine-and-dandy through all of it, but I'm cool." When Buffy didn't continue Angel tried to keep the conversation open.  
  
"How's everybody else? Dawn? Willow?" he pressed. Buffy fought down an annoyed sigh, knowing she owed Angel this for his hospitality.  
  
"Everyone's good. Dawn's still at UCLA finishing her degree; Willow's in New York with Tara; Xander and Anya are somewhere up North; and Giles is back in England, has been there for a long time." Out of the blue she yawned, unwittingly making it clear to Angel how truly tired she was.  
  
"Maybe you should get some sleep," he suggested. Buffy shook her head no, pushing herself up in the seat.  
  
"I'll live," she argued, rubbing her eyes and running her hands through her hair. Angel studied her with worried eyes, but decided not to push. It wasn't his place to order a grown woman about.  
  
"I see the birthday curse has returned," he half-joked, watching Buffy for a reaction. She gave a little bark of humourless laughter.  
  
"It never left, Angel," she replied, and Angel allowed himself the luxury of hearing her say his name. He would never get tired of that sound.  
  
"How so?" he pushed, settling himself into the chair more. Buffy's mouth twitched into a half-smile, half-grimace as she retraced her birthdays.  
  
"This year - my twenty-sixth, the longest a Slayer has lived by the way - my dad is dying. We take him off life support tomorrow. Last year a giant squid attacked Sunnydale. The year before the Traditionalists in the Watcher's Council came after me full force, and with their whooped little Slayer. Have you ever heard of The Scourge?" At Angel's nod, Buffy continued; "I fought them on my twenty-third; on number twenty-two Ethan Rayne gave me amnesia, and Giles had to come over to reverse the spell. In fact I haven't seen Will and Giles in the same town since then. Anyway, where was I? Yeah, twenty-one Willow was possessed, number twenty a bunch of kids messed with dark magic and sucked the town back in time, nineteen saw Giles turned into a Fyarl demon, eighteen the Council made me helpless, and seventeen...well, y'know."  
  
Angel sat stunned and completely speechless, making Buffy smile at his predicament.  
  
"Pretty cool, huh?" she asked rhetorically, a glimpse of her former spunkiness shining through.  
  
"Wow," Angel said slowly, processing everything she'd said. Buffy nodded once, slipping back into a sombre mood and drifting off in her thoughts. Angel took this opportunity to drink her in, inhaling her scent like a man on Everest would air. Her face had softened, and her eyes had aged with more wisdom than anyone in their twenties or even thirties should hold.  
  
"You've mellowed," he said suddenly, finally putting his finger on what was so different about her. She wasn't so much old as soft. Buffy smiled sweetly at him.  
  
"I was humbled," she replied cryptically as she twiddled her thumbs in her lap. Another yawn leapt from her and she gave Angel a sheepish look. "I think I might take you up on that sleep offer," she said. Angel smiled, offering her his hand and pulling her up to stand with him.  
  
"You can have my bed," he told her, leading her towards the only bedroom in the apartment; he rarely had over-night guests. Buffy froze behind him.  
  
"Your bed?" she squeaked, staring wide-eyed at the door in front of them. Angel nodded.  
  
"Yeah. Is that a problem?" he asked. Buffy jerked her hand out of his, holding it to her as if it were injured.  
  
"Where will you sleep?" she asked, clearly using it as an excuse.  
  
"The couch," Angel replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world, which it was. Buffy shook her head, backing away from both the bedroom and Angel.  
  
"I-I wouldn't want to impose. I'll take the couch," she said. Angel frowned and stepped towards her.  
  
"What's wrong Buffy? I won't try anything, you know I'm not like that," he soothed, reaching out to touch her arm. Buffy looked at the connecting limbs, then up into his concerned eyes, and before she could stop herself the tears burst forth. Angel instinctively pulled her into his arms as she cried, sobs wracking her small frame and large wet patches forming on his shirt. He didn't care. Beneath her shirt he could feel how small she had become, her ribs rubbing by his fingers. It wasn't a pleasant feeling. She hadn't been eating properly; she probably wasn't even living, merely existing like he had for ninety years.   
  
Eventually, Buffy's sobs calmed to hitches and her tears slowly dried up. She pulled away from Angel with a guilty look in her eyes.  
  
"Sorry," she murmured, wrapping her arms around herself. Angel ushered her towards the sofa and urged her to sit, seating himself beside her.  
  
"What's wrong Buffy? I know your father is ill, but I doubt he's the reason you burst into tears," Angel noted, cocking his head inquisitively at her. Buffy found the look incredibly adoring and her heart ached just a little bit more.   
  
"It's...I...If things get too hard in life I...I stay at the mansion. I don't live there, but if it gets too much to handle on my own I sleep in your bed at the mansion and..." The tears threatened again and Buffy stopped to force them away.  
  
"Why?" Angel asked disbelievingly. He'd been out of her life for eight years, why did she go to the mansion for comfort?  
  
"Because it smells like you," she confessed in a whisper, and Angel froze at her heartfelt words. "It's like your jacket. Y'know, the leather one you gave me when I first came to Sunnydale? That's locked in the wardrobe for emergencies, but sometimes that isn't enough and I have to go to a place where we were happy for a while." She sighed, slouching in her chair in defeat. Nobody knew that secret, and she'd intended to keep it that way. But all Angel had to do was ask and it came out. She was so weak.  
  
Angel couldn't say anything. What Buffy had just revealed could only mean one thing: she still loved him. Which meant she'd probably spent the last eight years alone, or jumping from one relationship to the other feeling worthless or cheap. And the guilt he felt from leaving her to face her birthday surprises tripled.  
  
Buffy mistook his stunned silence for disgust or disappointment that she hadn't moved on like he probably had, and she sniffled.  
  
"If-If you want me to go I can. Dawn has floor space if nothing else," she offered meekly, hoping against hope he'd ask her to stay. Angel's head snapped up at her suggestion.  
  
"Leave? Are you kidding?!" he exclaimed as he leapt to his feet, and Buffy flinched, thinking he was angry with her.  
  
"I won't leave then," she mumbled, bowing her head to avoid his piercing gaze. Angel dropped to his knees in front of her and pulled her into his embrace. She struggled for a moment, his actions taking her by complete surprise. But the familiar sensations washed over her almost immediately and she relaxed into his arms, wrapping her arms around neck and pulling him closer. She didn't quite understand why he was holding her, her disinterest in life as of late making her sluggish and slow, but she had missed this so much, just to have someone there in her life to share the enormous amount of pain and occasional pleasure with.   
  
When Angel pulled back a moment later his eyes were as moist as Buffy's.  
  
"Angel?" she queried, and he bestowed her with the biggest smile she had ever seen on him. "Are you okay?" she asked. It had been so long since they had last even been in the same city, she didn't know what to expect from him any more. It was hard enough to predict way back when she was a teenage and he was her cradle-robbing, creature-of-the-night boyfriend.   
  
"It's been so long since I heard from you, I thought you'd moved on," Angel said huskily, his hands resting comfortably on Buffy's hips. She shook her head disbelievingly.  
  
"I had a few boyfriends in college, none of them serious after Riley. I-I just couldn't face the hassle, or the truth. It's hard to settle for second-best when you've had the real thing." He nodded, leaning his forehead against hers and pulling her closer again.  
  
"I-I..." he started, and they were both catapulted back in time by nine years, to Angel's old apartment after a near-death experience with the Judge. "I love you," Angel whispered, and Buffy's heart swelled painfully in her chest.  
  
"You-You love me?" she asked, not believing her ears. Angel nodded, feeling Buffy's harsh exhale of breath on his face. "I love you too. I always have," she answered. Angel felt joy sweep through his veins so fast and so violently he feared for his soul.   
  
Nothing had changed from Buffy's high school graduation all those years ago, but they had changed individually, so much so that maybe this time it would work, despite the limitations. Angel had realised long ago that Buffy lived in the night as much as he did. The only thing stopping them now was Angelus. But he was sure they could work around that.  
  
Without conscious thought their mouths moved towards each other and they were soon involved in a passionate kiss, tongues reacquainting themselves with forgotten territory. Buffy had to pull away, breathless as she always had been. She stood, offering her had to Angel who was still kneeling in front of the sofa.  
  
"Come to bed?" she asked tentatively, but with an air of confidence she hadn't had just moments before. Angel looked dubious for a moment, but Buffy's chiding expression turned his mouth into a little half-smile as he took her hand and stood.   
  
As Angel lay in his bed, spooned around Buffy with the fatal sunlight safe behind the curtains, he finally took in the enormity of the situation. The day that had driven them apart all those years ago had brought them back together, and he was determined to stick by her this time, through all her cursed birthdays no matter what.  
  
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End  



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